Firebug: Ch. 34 - Urgent Meeting

Rain pelted Nurse Flanagan's beat-up old Honda from all sides as it wound through the dark city streets. Roman knew the storm was his own doing, but he didn't have the presence of mind to stop it. He was too busy trying to organize the countless questions swirling around his head. Questions that the old bat hadn't bothered to answer in more than one syllable.

She'd barely said a word at all since she dragged him out of his hospital bed against his will. Roman wasn't even allowed to find his mom first and tell her they were leaving. He could only imagine how worried she was, especially once she found the gaping hole in the wall of his room that used to be a window. Knowing his mom, she probably called the cops, assuming they weren't already on-scene investigating the sudden death of the man who'd tried to kill Roman.

Roman squirmed in the passenger seat like there were army ants marching in his boxers, his mind still struggling to wrap itself around his current situation. Why would anyone send a hitman after him? He'd never done harm to anyone that he knew of, except maybe on the football field. Of course, there was the tornado he'd conjured, leveling a portion of the school gym. He was still beating himself up over that. As devastating as that accident had been, though, that's all it really was: an accident. Surely that didn't warrant a death sentence. Did it?

More questions. Questions he desperately needed the answers to. Right now, there was only one person who could offer any... but he might as well waste his breath asking a brick wall. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he took another stab at it.

"Where are we going?" he demanded, "Just... gimme a hint at least, please!"

"Can it," the nurse growled, squinting through her windshield.

She had the wipers going at Mach 3, but visibility was still nil. As she dropped the car's speed to a crawl, Roman couldn't help but notice how hot her side of the car was getting. Nervously, he cracked his window - just a smidge to keep from suffocating. In a snap, however, it zipped shut again by itself.

"Sit still and stop screwing around with the buttons!" Nurse Flanagan snapped, "Jeez, Kid, you're worse than a cocker spaniel!"

"Sorry," Roman muttered, mopping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, "Just trying to cool off a little. Thought it might help."

Nurse Flanagan's hands tightened around the wheel, filling the car with the faint odor of melting rubber. "If you wanna help, you can knock it off with the rain," she retorted sharply, "Otherwise, we might as well be walking."

Roman took a deep, cleansing breath, nodding, then cast a glance into the back seat. Theo was stretched out across it under a blanket, exactly in the same position as when they left the hospital an hour ago. Roman's heart ached at the sight of him, unable to resist reaching back to stroke Theo's freckly cheek. The Brit mumbled in his sleep at the light touch, nuzzling Roman's fingertips with a deep sigh. It was such a small gesture - and one Theo didn't even do consciously - but it was enough to make Roman smile.

The rain eased off, but it didn't stop. Roman didn't have enough control to make it end on a whim. Even if he could, his worry over Theo was too intense to try. From the second Theo touched that needle-wielding psycho, Roman just knew something was wrong. Theo hadn't said a word about it; probably still too freaked out over what happened. Roman couldn't blame him for it, of course. Even now, Roman couldn't blink without seeing Theo collapsed across his lap - eyes wide with terror and pure, blind panic - gasping like he'd suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Roman shivered a little at the image burned into his brain, knowing it would haunt him forever. He still didn't know why Theo had gone from perfectly fine and dandy to teetering on the brink of death in three seconds flat. His only conclusion was twofold: one, the hitman surely had something to do with Theo's sudden ailment; and two, Theo had without a doubt saved his life. Roman set his jaw as he stroked Theo's feverish cheek with his thumb, vaguely aware of a roll of thunder over the car.

He was glad Nurse Flanagan had dealt with that homicidal nutcase... because if she hadn't, Roman would've put the asshole down with his bare hands.

"We're here."

Roman turned around in his seat with a jolt, facing the windshield again. They'd driven all the way out to the edge of the city, for reasons only Nurse Flanagan knew. When he laid eyes on the building they were parked in front of, all Roman had was more questions. It was the old town theater. Roman had never been inside before, as it had been condemned for longer than he'd been alive. He was surprised to see it was still standing, certain the city had torn it down years ago.

The hundred-year-old building was barely standing anymore, mostly crumbling brick, sagging woodwork, and peeling paint. The few windows that weren't broken were boarded up, probably as a vain attempt to keep out squatters and drug dealers. The sheets of plywood covering the ticket booth were papered over with tattered notices from the city, warning trespassers how unsafe the structure was just in case they were stupid enough to try and break in anyway. Despite all the obvious signs to avoid the theater, a faint, warm light glowed through the jagged holes in the upper windows.

It was occupied after all.

Nurse Flanagan was already out of the car, giving Roman no choice but to follow her. As he shut his door, though, he looked through the rear windows into the back seat again. Theo was still asleep. Even if there was time to wake him, Roman decided it was best to just let him keep snoozing. He blew a quick kiss through the glass, along with a silent promise to return soon, before tugging up his hood and jogging after Nurse Flanagan. She'd beaten him to the alley, making her way to a rusty steel door on the side of the building. By the time Roman caught up with her, she was talking to someone on the other side of it through a narrow metal slot.

"Let me in, dammit," she hissed, "You know it's me, Red, for Pete's sake! I'm getting soaked, and I ain't got time for this cloak-and-dagger bullshit tonight!"

"Rules is rules, Birdie," a gravelly masculine voice answered. The piggy brown eyes on the other side of the slot darted to Roman for a second, burning holes clear through him, before locking onto the nurse again.

"Black as pitch when bought am I; red as blood when used. When I turn grey, you cast me aside. What am I?"

Nurse Flanagan rolled her eyes, pushing her wet red curls out of her face. "Coal," she grumped, "Now let us in already!"

The narrow slot in the door closed with a sharp, sudden click. Before Roman could ask Nurse Flanagan what was going on, the door swung open. Nurse Flannagan hurried inside, shaking the raindrops off her coat with heavy sigh. When Roman tried to follow, though, a gloved hand the size of a hubcap hit his chest, stopping him in his tracks. He followed it to a tall, bald, well-built biker dude with tattoos and a flowing red beard that would make a Viking jealous. The same beady dark eyes Roman had seen through the slot scowled down at him from the man's broad sunburnt face, earning a nervous gulp from the teen. Then, without warning, Nurse Flanagan grabbed Roman's elbow.

"He's with me," she said, "you got a problem with that?"

Although she was easily half his size, the biker backed off. As he bolted the door behind them, his bearded chin jutted toward the cavernous room ahead.

"You're late," he rumbled, "Meetin' started half an hour ago. Find a seat wherever you can. Just keep quiet. Volkan's on a tear, an' he hates gettin' interrupted."

Nurse Flanagan's face turned white, but she nodded her understanding. Her hand was hot on Roman's elbow as she dragged him along behind her, making a beeline through the endless rows of seats to the back right side of the room. It took a few seconds for Roman's eyes to adjust to the dim light, and make out the dozens of eyes shining back at him. Nearly every seat was filled. He was surprised how many people in attendance still had their coats on. It was a wet, chilly night out, but the interior of the theater was stiflingly hot. Roman had no idea they could stand to be bundled up so tightly, especially those who'd chosen to don thick scarves and heavy gloves.

The energy in the room was absolutely electric, and not in a good way. Roman had never felt so much pure anxiety in one room before. So much hatred. By the time he realized most of that negative energy was directed at him, his attention was suddenly diverted to the wide, pine stage at the front of the room.

A man in a smart grey suit stood front and center upon it, leaning on a solid metal podium. Volkan, Roman assumed. The flickering stage lamps cast his sharp, tanned features and neatly trimmed goatee in an eerie yellow light, reflecting off his glossy, gelled black hair. The rest of him was left mostly in shadow, making him look like a ghost. The guy seemed alive enough, though, based on the fury in his piercing copper eyes and the angry timbre of his deep, booming voice.

"The point, Ladies and Gentlemen, is that we are under attack," Volkan alleged, the words rolling and rollicking off his tongue with a thick Mediterranean accent, "The tornado that touched down in our city last week was no act of Nature! We have only survived this long because of our reliance on secrecy and discretion. Now, that secret is in jeopardy! How long will it be before the Ungifted start to suspect?! How long before another Hydro or Atmos loses control, and threatens our very existence?!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the theater, making Roman shift in his seat. The rain beat more heavily on the theater's sagging tar roof, echoing the rapid hammering of Roman's heart. Nurse Flanagan's feverish hand clamped onto his wrist suddenly, her head shaking with silent urgency. Roman nodded and took a deep breath, but it caught suddenly in his throat when his attention returned to the stage.

Volkan was staring right at him.

"It would seem there is an interloper in our midst," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut steel.

Roman played dumb, looking all around like he didn't know who the speaker was talking about. Every eye in the theater was back on him in seconds though. Some scared shitless. Others looking angry enough to kill.

"Yes... you," Volkan growled, his brown leather gloves creaking as he pointed at Roman, "Seize him, and bring him forward! Now!"

Thunder shook the theater as a few shadowy figures raced off the stage and up the aisles toward Roman. He jumped to his feet instinctively, holding his hands up and out in a surrender.

"I-I'm not an interloper," he argued, "I'm like you!! R-Really!"

The room grew suffocatingly hot as the people sitting closest to Roman and Nurse Flanagan shuffled away suddenly. Faint whiffs of smoke and melting fabric tickled Roman's nose from every corner of the theater, carried on the backs of frightened whispers. Most of the smoke plumed forth from the stage, where Volkan was removing his gloves.

"No, Child," he snarled, fire curling off his fingertips, "...you are not."